The Pen and The Sword
by Suededonym
Summary: In which Chuck steps up to the plate, and several people get what is owed to them. Semi-Crack, very mild scariness. Complete.


I own nothing but a pair of headphones that I stole from my brother. Supernatural belongs to Kripke & Co; I'm just borrowing 'em for now.

Yeah, so... this. I don't know what it is, but it walked into my head this afternoon and prodded me until I wrote it out. And, uh, now I have to inflict it on you people. Sorry.

Warnings: Crackishness, BAMFness, and vague endings.

* * *

"So this is how it ends." 

The devil sighed and gave them an almost pitying look. 

"I really thought you would have put up more of a fight than this, boys." 

The trio stood stoically through his speech, just wanting it to be over, all of it. 

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" 

As the devil raised his hands, Castiel and the Winchesters raised their stolen angelic swords, even thought he gesture would be futile. Team Free Will was just plain outmatched. 

"WAIT!"

The battlers turned to see one more player coming to join the fight, someone who was clearly in over his head. His clothes were dirty and dishevled, his face matted in a two day-old growth of beard. He brought nothing with him, save for a Bible.

The devil laughed at this pathetic sight.

"The calvary is here! Oh, this is just precious. If I weren't here to destroy the plague of humanity, I might have let you live for the laughs."

Chuck's knees shook but the moment passed and he gathered the remainder of his courage, bringing out his secret weapon; a pen. He brought it to the open pages of the Bible and began to write.

"And lo, the prophet of the Lord did appear, and he did join with Sam, Dean and the angel Castiel in the fight against the terrible serpent." Chuck read aloud.

The Devil flicked the brothers aside with a twitch of his fingers, but Chuck stayed standing.

"And though the serpent did try, he could not move the prophet from his path." Chuck was advancing now, making a slow and painful looking trek across the room. A strong wind whipped the edges of his robe. He continued to speak.

"And the brothers did understand that though the Lord did not do everything for them, He had given them all the tools they required."

The Devil took a step back, wincing as if the words were wounds.

"You're nothing!" Cried the devil. "A drunk who can't write for shit!"

Chuck's voice gained strength.

"The prophet spoke, and his word was the word of the Lord."

Sam and Dean stood up, watching as the air around Chuck became electric.

"And the prophet spoke again, and his voice was the voice of the Lord!"

Something undefinable happened then, Chuck's voice warping so that the words became power itself.

"**And thus saith the Lord: GO TO HELL!**"

The storm in the room reached it's peak. The air was rent and hoards of demons appeared, groping for the one who had been their king. He fought, but he was simply outnumbered. They tore him from his meatsuit, exposing an incredibly bright light. Chuck and the brothers threw their ams up to protect themselves fromt he intensity.

When their vision returned, the Devil was gone. The storm was gone, the smell of ozone still tangy in the air.

Dean spoke first.

"You had to wait untill the last minute to find some balls?" 

Chuck was too stunned to form a reply, because he was busy being mugged by a group hug and manly pounding of arms from all sides. Castiel even got in a few awkward pats on the back.

"Is he really gone?" Sam fretted.

"Gone for good." Chuck reassured him. "You can all relax now."

Castiel closed his eyes and sighed in relief.

"I don't know about the rest of you," said Dean "but I could really go for a celebratory pie and beer."

* * *

Chuck typed out the last letters into his computer, trailing off in the middle of the sentence. Giving up for now, he leaned back and streched out. How many hours had he been writing now? Three? Four? Long enough for his coffee to run out and his hands to cramp up.

"What have you got so far?"

Chuck nearly fell out of his chair.

"Geez, Cas! I think Dean was right, we should get you a bell or something."

"Sorry."

Castiel remained uncomfortably close to the writer.

"I have most of it down so far, but I was thinking about taking some parts out. Uhm, my parts... you know? Or just toning it down or something. I mean, don't you think its just a tiny bit narcasistic to have me saving the day?"

"But you did save the day. The Lord worked through you to send the Devil back to Hell."

Chuck tapped his fingers on the cluttred desk.

"I know, but my fans will tear me apart for it."

"Why?"

"...You and Sam and Dean are supposed to be the heroes of this story."

"But if you write it that way it will be false scripture."

Chuck streched again.

"And therein lies the conundrum. I think I'll just leave it on a semi-cliffhanger as a comprimise."

Castiel made a noncommital noise in his throat in repy.

"Dean and Sam will arrive shortly."

The doorbell rang.

"Geez, Cas! You could give a guy a little more warning than that!"

Chuck lept up from his chair and frantically began to tidy.

"Go answer the door, I will clean." Castiel offered.

By the time Chuck let them in, his living room was immaculate.

"Hey Cas, looks like you beat us here."

Castiel inclined his head at Dean.

"How's the story coming?" Sam asked, dropping onto the overstuffed couch.

"Done, erm, mostly done. Nothing's ready to read yet though. I still have to proofread and polish it off. Hey, I have a message for you guys." Chuck threw out the last bit in an attempt to sidetrack them.

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked. "From God?" He only sounded a little bit skeptical.

"No, from Gabriel actually. He stopped by, scared the crap out of me. Anyway, the message is this-" Chuck picked up a scrap of paper. " 'Dear Deano and Sammy boy, I wiped you guys from the police database and the minds of everyone with a grudge against you. You have no record and are now free to screw up your lives however you please. Don't say I never did anything for you. Love, the Gabster.'"

"Wow." Dean said.

"Wow about sums it up." Sam shared a look with his brother.

They all took a moment to absorb the information.

"Oh, and I have one for you too, Castiel. This one is from God." Chuck cleared his throat. "You're welcome back home any time, and you don't have to stay if you don't want to. He uh, also sends his love and his apoligies for what you've all been through."

"Huh." Cas grunted. He did his best to keep a straight face, but Chuck could see the gloss in his eyes that gave away the angel's true feelings. Not that he would ever bring it up.

"Come on Sam, Cas." Dean said, moving to leave. "Send us a copy of that last book when you're done, Chuck. We'll be in touch." 

Sam rose from the couch and followed his brother. Castiel surprised Chuck with a quick, one-armed embrace on his way out the door. Of course he would ride with them, wherever they were going.

Chuck went back to his computer.

_"What now?" Sam asked as Dean put the car in drive._

_"I don't know." Dean answered. And then, "I guess we'll find out."_

_Dean popped in his favorite tape, drove the Impala out of Chuck's driveway and into the sunset to the sound of the greatest hits of mullet rock._

_The End  
_

It still needed a a little work, a little polishing in some parts, but it was getting there. And that was just fine with Chuck.

FIN


End file.
